


Bruises

by redhotpandas



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 11:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12555988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhotpandas/pseuds/redhotpandas
Summary: Ethan doesn't have to tell anybody what he gets up to on the weekends. They wouldn't understand why he does it.All he know, is that he wants it.





	Bruises

**Author's Note:**

> Goretober Day 1 prompt! Bruises!  
> Needless to say, I don't have any other prompts fully written. I may have started too many fics.
> 
> And please give me prompts! I'll write whatever u want! I love writing things for people!

Goretober day 1: Bruises

The thing about bruises, were that if you played them off right, nobody would think anything was wrong. Everybody would think you'd just had some pretty good sex. 

That was kind of true, actually.

Ethan had been going out, downtown, more and more, just hoping to be used, maybe get in a fight. The next day, though, he would stare absently into the mirror, thinking about how nobody would want anything to do with him, looking like this. 

So he dyes his hair back earlier than expected, so what? Nobody says anything, and the guys on the street take him a little more seriously now. It's not exactly the life he wants to live, but he'd been thinking about the what-ifs for weeks-- what if he just left, disappeared, from his life now? What if he wanted to see what the harder side of Los Angeles would offer?

No one bothered to ask his name, except for creeps, but he didn't waste his time with them. All anyone really knew were his eyes. 

So, yeah, it was getting to be kind of a problem. That's how the bruises had started, anyway. 

Ethan had been with a man that night, because it was mostly men; out of nowhere, he took Ethan's throat and pressed down on it, hard. Ethan was wide-eyed and gasping because he couldn't breathe but it was making him feel so light-headed and made him feel _good._

He couldn't stop thinking about it when he went home the next day. Couldn't stop touching his neck. 

On the weekends was when he did it, went into the city, hanging around in an alley, maybe. The only thing to keep track of time with was his watch, he didn't need any valuables here. He wasn't looking to get mugged, thank you very much. 

Ethan was just looking to get fucked. 

He's leaning against the streetlight. Not that many people are out, it's late. But, he's got nothing to do tomorrow, anyway. He knows to leave just enough time before Monday so he can sober up for work, if need be. They can always tell when he's drunk. It's kind of annoying.

A rather large man passes him; looks back at him once or twice. Ethan takes that as his cue. He subtly inclines his head and gives the man sort of a _come here_ gesture. The man obliges.

“Hey,” Ethan hears himself say. His heart is beating slightly faster than usual, just like every other time. “Your place, or mine?”

He smiles as seductively as he can, but the man isn't having it. “Follow me,” he says. “And we're not going to my house.”

That should be more worrying than it is, but Ethan allows the guy to push him forward anyway. As they walk, he wonders what will happen once they get there. Will it be an ambush, and he'll be peppered with bullets? Is he actually following an undercover cop, just itching to cuff him, to beat him? Is he going to be the new test subject for another poisonous drug?

Most likely, he'll just end up getting fucked again. But, that's what he wants, so he's willing to take the risks. It's exhilarating to think about all the things that could happen to him. 

His eyes are beginning to get sore. He's got to stay awake, though. The best part of the night is yet to come.

The man ends up pulling Ethan into a rusty, decrepit-looking shack. But, at least it's out of the way. This guy obviously doesn't want to be caught, and Ethan doesn't blame him. 

He locks the door, and suddenly is pressed up against the wall. “How do you usually do this?” the man breathes into his ear in an attempt to be sexy. 

Ethan's nonplussed. “Any way you like it, baby,” he whispered back, grinning. “Let's get started.” 

Soon, neither of them are wearing hardly anything. Ethan's back is on the cold, dusty ground. But, who cares? He's too excited about what comes next.

“Ah, will you--will you choke me, please?” It's quiet, but he knows the man can hear him. The man is confused at first, but quickly slides his hand up Ethan's throat, fingers splayed. He presses down a little. “Like this?”

“Harder,” Ethan says. “As hard as you can, preferably w-without killing me.” It sounds ominous, but nobody he's ever slept with has stopped to question his words. 

And he knows he's going to have to get better if he wants to sleep with the one person who does. But, he doesn't think he can stop just yet. 

All he wants are those large, rough hands around his throat while he gets mercilessly fucked. And after that, more.

Unfortunately, he can only fill one of those wants right now. God, he wants to be choked until he blacks out.

Ethan's cut off from his thoughts when the man grips his throat with his other hand. It's getting much harder to breath, there's black spots dancing across his vision, and all he can think is that this is the closest he's come to feeling content in weeks.

The man digs in his fingernails and Ethan hisses. He could feel him tensing up and then it was over. He hadn't even come yet.

They awkwardly avoided eye contact as they put their respective clothing on. 

“So... how much do I owe you?” the man asked.

Ethan dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “Don't worry about it. I needed that just as much as you.” And he slipped out the door before the guy could speak again.

Ethan began briskly walking home. He hated to cut it short, but the man had come so soon that he figured it was pointless to have another go. He'd been waiting forever for his next fuck, and could you really blame him for being dissatisfied?

He loved being asphyxiated, loved having the ever-loving shit choked out of him. He loved not being able to draw a full breath and the feeling of nails clawing into his jugular.

Most of all, he loved seeing the looks on his friends’ faces when he came to work the next day with poorly applied makeup on, purposely failing to hide it properly. And boy, does he love watching a certain someone get jealous. 

People sometimes asked him why he never charged money, but his answer was always the same. All he needed was one cheap kink to be fulfilled. He got paid more than enough with both of his jobs, anyway.

Ethan crashes on his bed, only stopping to kick off his shoes before shoving his face in his pillow. He was probably going to have to tell someone about this. This was definitely not what his friends would have wanted. 

He just wanted to be good, but it was so easy to give up on that. And he is a little worried about, one day, not having anyone left.

So, maybe he cries silently for a while before he actually falls asleep. Big deal. He's tired, and it's nearly 4 in the morning. And it's certainly not because sometimes, he thinks about dying.

Ethan doesn't think about it much, though, and it'll take a lot before everything gets to be that much worse. 

The windows are open, and blow a cool breeze onto him. 

_The next time you see him, tell him._

He repeats it in his head like a mantra.

_The next time you see him, tell him._

That's what he falls asleep to. 

 

When he wakes up, he looks in the mirror, skimming his fingertips over the expanse of black and purple his throat’s been reduced to. Ethan can't help but feel an odd sense of pride, in a way, knowing he did this and he could do it again if he wanted. He looked good. He looked pretty, like this. 

With a resigned sigh, he begins applying concealer to his neck. The bruises always looked worse than they felt. 

 

Before he leaves his car, he checks them out in the mirror. Time for another day to ruin. Ethan expects that they won't ask questions, but they won't talk much and avert eye contact with him.

He steps through the door, and Tyler is instantly there, looking down at him, with his arms crossed. 

“Dude, why haven't you told us you're dating someone! We all know you are, and it's been like three weeks. When are we going to get to meet them?”

If only he knew. But Ethan thinks about last night and he knows he could never lie to Tyler anyway. If there's any hope of fixing what's left of him by now, he ought to get things over with. 

“Actually,” Ethan frowns, staring at the floor, “I'm not seeing anyone.” 

Tyler is relieved for a second, but then looks confused. “What do you mean? Is--is someone hurting you?”

Tyler moves his hand minutely, like he wants to touch Ethan's neck, just to see how bad it really is. Ethan decides to take Tyler's hand and guide it there.

Tyler's got an unreadable look on his face, but hesitantly skims his thumb down Ethan's jugular. Ethan's breathing quickens ever so slightly. Before he gets in too deep, he remembers he has to say something back.

“No. No one's hurting me.” 

Tyler's eyebrows knit together. 

“Tyler,” Ethan says softly, “I did this. I wanted it.” 

He hears him suck in a quick breath.

“And I don't know how to stop it. To stop wanting it.”

Ethan lightly places his hand over Tyler's, which is still resting on his throat. He takes a deep breath.

“ I need you to fix me.”

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"Tyler, I need you to choke me."


End file.
